Intoxicating

I Love You 'Till The End

Leia's POV

As we stepped through the door, bags in hand, I couldn't stop smiling. Paris had been everything I dreamed it would be and more. The streets, the architecture, the food-it was like stepping into a postcard. But what made it truly magical was experiencing it all with Timothée.

"I can't believe your parents just let us loose in the city like that," I laughed, setting the bags down on the table. "They're so trusting!"

Timothée smirked as he kicked off his shoes. "They probably figured I'd keep you out of trouble," he teased, his tone light and playful.

"Oh, please," I shot back, crossing my arms. "If anyone's causing trouble, it's you. I'm the responsible one."

He grinned, stepping closer, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Is that right? Responsible enough to convince me we needed that third bottle of wine for later?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the grin spreading across my face. "That was for your mom, not us!"

Timothée laughed, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me closer. "Sure, sure," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always sent shivers down my spine.

The house was quiet, the rest of his family off visiting friends nearby. It was just the two of us now, and the air felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

"You know," I started, running my fingers along the collar of his shirt, "I really love your family. And I love Paris. But most of all, I love seeing this side of you. Relaxed, happy...I don't know, it feels different here."

Timothée's expression softened, his teasing smirk replaced by something deeper. "Paris does that to me," he admitted. "But I think it's you, too, Leia. Everything feels lighter with you here. Better."

My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. But he tilted my chin up, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

"I mean it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You make everything better, Leia."

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence stretched, warm and comforting, until Timothée leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that felt like a promise.

As we pulled away, I smiled up at him, my heart full. "So," I said softly, "what do we do now?"

Timothée took my hand and led me up the stairs, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. My cheeks ached from smiling; the day had been perfect-Paris, his family, him. I couldn't imagine wanting anything more.

The moment we reached the top of the stairs, he spun me around, pressing me against the door to our room. My breath caught as his arms framed me in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that sent sparks flying down my spine.

His touch was electric, his fingers grazing my waist as I clung to him, my hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against mine with an urgency that made my heart race.

When he pulled back, I barely had the strength to open my eyes. He looked at me, his eyes dark and full of something I could never fully describe. "Timothée," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "What?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

I shook my head, smiling up at him. "Nothing. Just...don't stop."

That was all it took for him to lean in again, his lips finding mine as his hands pressed against my waist. The kiss was everything-soft, fierce, consuming. I felt like the world could end, and I wouldn't care, as long as he was kissing me.